


Death Warmed Up

by flash_the_geist



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Author has much experience having the flu, Fluff, Lewthur - Freeform, M/M, Sickfic, Vivi is there for about a paragraph, seriously so much fluff, so you can read this as either Lewvithur or, there is absolutely no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flash_the_geist/pseuds/flash_the_geist
Summary: By popular demand*, a classic sickfic.In which Arthur has the 'flu, Lewis goes full Mother Hen, and Vivi is not nearly sympathetic enough.((*lol 'popular demand' - like three people expressed interest and I caved, I amweak))





	Death Warmed Up

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to save this for a prompt but then I realised there's actually no limit to the amount of fic I can write.
> 
> A _revelation_.

The alarm goes off and Arthur feels a deep, vindictive loathing for his own sturdy craftsmanship, because no matter how hard he smacks it the damn thing continues to chirp cheerfully.

Groaning, he finally cracks an eye open to turn it off properly, flopping back dismally on the bed. He feels _wretched_ , like his bones are made of lead, his head stuffed with cotton wool. He thinks despairingly of the long list of repairs on the books for today and forces himself to shuffle out of their warm cocoon and into the bathroom, leaving Vivi snoring away on the other side of the bed. Not for the first time, he feels a flash of envy for her ability to sleep through almost anything.

Cranking the hot water as far as he can stand, he prays the steam will somehow clear the cobwebs from his head. He'd started feeling off yesterday, but he'd hoped it was just one of those long-day cold weather things. After several long, aching minutes he's forced to admit defeat - the ache has set in for the long haul, the steam is making his nose run, and he can feel a horrible tickle in his lungs. He mutters a curse, then quickly claps a hand over his mouth. No way can he let on about this to the others - he knows how they get about trivial things like colds. Vivi and Lewis are starting a new research project at the Tome Tomb today and Vivi's been on about it for _weeks_. A stupid cold is not ruining that.

His internal clock is ticking a warning, the extra time he's taking meaning he's probably running late - he races through the rest of the morning routine as quickly as his sore muscles will let him, tearing through the kitchen without even bothering to tie his shoes.

" **Oh - have a good day, Arthur,** " Lewis calls. Arthur pauses halfway out the door, only now noticing he's not the only one up and about in the apartment. Lewis was always an early riser, and now that he has no need for sleep he has a tendency to wander at night. Arthur's somewhat surprised he didn't run into him earlier, and curses his muddled, unprepared brain.

"Bye Lew, sorry - slept in, running late - say bye to Vivi for me?" He gives a cursory wave and tacks on a forcibly-cheery "Good luck!" for good measure. He knows Lewis' weird ghost senses will figure him out if he gets anywhere near him, so he avoids his outstretched hand and flings himself outside and into the van.

Thankfully, Lewis must accept his excuse, because he doesn't follow him. He gets the van a few turns down the road before he has to pull over, finally giving in to the cough he's been suppressing. Bracing himself on the steering wheel, he winces at the noise he's making - it sure _feels_ like he's hacking up a lung, and it definitely doesn't sound good, rattling in his chest like one of the broken engines he's meant to be working on _right now_ , dammit.

Well. He'll just have to borrow some Tylenol from the workshop first-aid kit, is all. He'll be fine.

\-----

" **You know, it's weird - I'm pretty sure I once told you that if you got sick and I wasn't around to help, you'd have to take good care of yourself or I'd come back to haunt you.** "

Arthur cracks an eye open, frowning up at Lewis' unimpressed face. "Thas' not funny," he says, and proceeds to cough his lungs out.

Lewis makes a tutting noise, putting his palm on Arthur's forehead like he's some old-timey nurse. Arthur bats him away, sitting up and taking stock. He'd only meant to take a quick break after the second job of the day - he'd set an alarm on his phone to wake him after fifteen minutes. A quick check of his pockets and a pat around the sofa brings up nothing, and he squints up in confusion.

" **Uncle Lance took your phone away and called Vivi to come and get you.** "

" _What?_ Why? I'm fine, just a bit... uh, tired."

Lewis' eyes narrow. " **That cough is not _fine_. Come on, I'm taking you home.**" His face is set in a familiar stubborn expression, and he looks enough like his mother that Arthur gives up on arguing - Mrs. Pepper makes that exact face when her mind is set in stone and nothing in heaven or earth can move her. It figures that she's passed that trait on to her son.

Arthur stands up and stumbles slightly, feeling a bit lightheaded. Predictably, Lewis freaks out, grabbing him tightly and checking his head again.

" **Artie?! What happened? Are you dizzy? ...Wait, I don't remember you having breakfast this morning - have you eaten at _all_ today?**"

"Ugh. I'm _fine_ , I just got up too quick-"

Lewis ignores this, scooping him up like a ragdoll and carting him off to the van. Arthur sighs, resigned to his fate - there's no reasoning with Lewis Pepper in Mom Mode. He only hopes no one is around to see, because in his hurry Lewis has forgotten to walk normally, instead drifting slightly above the ground.

\-----

" **Do you want some more lemon tea?** "

"No."

" **More soup?** "

"No."

" **Do you need another blanket?** "

" _No_ , Lewis."

" **Are you sure you're warm enough?** "

Arthur's about three seconds from screaming in frustration. After several rounds of tea, tea, soup, medicine, more tea, and what seems like every blanket in a five-mile radius, he's completely worn out.

He's being _nursemaided to death_.

This is exactly what he was trying to avoid - instead of dropping him home and heading back to his research project, Lewis is hovering like a ghostly mother hen, wasting his research time on this _stupid cold_.

He appreciates the effort, he truly does, but he just wants the man to stop floating in circles and sit _down_ for half a minute. Watching him is _exhausting_.

" **Artie?** " Lewis' hand brushes through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and - ooh, that feels nice, actually. Reeeaaally nice.

The room is chilly. Arthur was adamant about not using the expensive heating system, figuring all he'd be doing is lounging in bed. Despite the pile of blankets he's slightly regretting it now, though he knows it's probably the fever talking. He leans into Lewis' warm hand and his overcooked brain spits out an idea. Hmmm. Maybe this way Lew will stay put for more than a moment? "Mm, Lew - tha's real nice," he mumbles.

" **Oh?** " Lewis resumes the petting, and Arthur sighs softly, reaching out to lightly grip his sleeve.

"Mm. Head hurts. Y'r nice 'n warm," Arthur adds, and maaaaybe he's laying it on a bit thick. He tugs gently, trying to give him a clue.

Lewis, bless the reliable cuddlebug, doesn't waste the opportunity. " **Oh, I see. Why didn't you just say you wanted a hug?** " Warm arms engulf him, and a moment later Arthur's resting against a solid wall of heat. Lewis always runs hot these days, and Arthur's sore muscles are definitely appreciating that right now. Ahh, _bliss_.

The hand continues carding through his hair, brushing over his temple and around to the back of his neck, over and over again. He feels himself drifting off, lulled by the rhythmic sensation.

"Toasty ghost," he informs Lewis sleepily, and hears a staticky snort in return.

\-----

Unfortunately, his lungs are not on board with the napping program - he's not sure how long he's been out when he's rudely awoken by another bout of coughing, his chest spasming painfully. It's a dry, wracking cough, the kind that leaves a burning sensation all the way down his throat, and he tries to catch his breath, flailing out in confusion.

His bed shifts and with a start he realises he's still sprawled over Lewis. He opens his mouth to apologise but nothing comes out, and he swallows with a painful click and a grimace.

" **Hey, careful - you're alright.** " Lewis gently shifts them upright, but now Arthur's _too_ warm, and he rolls away.

Lewis clatters around on the bedside table for a moment and then hands him a glass of water and his phone - he was wondering where that went. He hopes it's survived its prolonged proximity to ghost-energy.

" **Call Vivi for me, will you?** "

Arthur opts for the water first, then blinks blearily at the phone. It seems to still be working - score one for his new energy-blocking case - and he hits the number for the Tome Tomb, setting it to speaker mode and tossing it down between them.

Flopping back, he tunes out the conversation, pressing the glass to his head. It feels like ice against his feverish skin, though he realises it's probably just room temperature. The cotton-wool sensation is back with a vengeance, his head aching miserably. _Fine_ , it's _possible_ he overdid it a bit this morning. A day off is _maybe_ warranted.

Lewis hisses something beside him, and he makes an effort to focus on the conversation.

" **I don't know what else to do. I can't sense exactly what the problem is, I just get this feeling of _wrong_ ,**" Lewis is saying. " **I think his temperature's really high.** "

"What is it, exactly?" comes Vivi's voice through the speaker.

" **I don't know! I'm a ghost, not a thermometer!** "

"...then maybe _get a thermometer_ and take his temperature?" Vivi responds dryly.

Lewis blinks. " **...Oh. Right. Do we have one?** "

"There's one in the van kit I think," Vivi says, and Lewis slouches off sheepishly to retrieve it.

"How you feeling, Art?" Vivi asks.

" _Mrrrrghh,_ " he says.

Vivi makes a sympathetic noise. "He gone full Mom Mode on you?"

"Oh my _god_ , yes," he rasps. " _Save me._ "

"Poor you. I'll be home in a few hours. Just let him fret himself out, you know what he's like."

"Yeah," Arthur says, and then after a moment, "...sorry about your project, though."

Vivi blows a raspberry, making the speaker hiss with static. " _Please_ tell me that's not why you fled to work in such a hurry when you clearly have the _flu_."

"...it's just a cold!" he protests, but his lungs are clearly on Vivi's side, because they immediately betray him by trying to escape again.

"...Wow," Vivi says, listening to him hack, "I think you actually deserve Mom Mode."

" **What?** " Lewis, returning just in time to catch the last comment, tilts his head in confusion.

"Nevermind gotta go!" Vivi yelps, and then the phone clicks and goes silent. Arthur sighs, snaps it shut, and kicks it off the bed.

Lewis sticks the thermometer in his mouth.

\-----

Arthur takes it all back - he is so, _so grateful_ for Lewis. Seriously, he's got some very pressing questions about the whole 'giant fire-skeleton' thing. Clearly there's been a mix up - Lewis should have come back with a big ol' pair of wings and a great golden halo, because he has the patience of a _saint_.

As predicted by Vivi, he has indeed fretted over Arthur all day - holding him close when he's cold, fetching him cool cloths when he's warm, dosing him up on 'flu medicine like clockwork, stuffing him full of soup and lemon tea and ice water... and bearing Arthur's miserable griping through it all.

It's some ungodly hour of the night, and he's once again draped over Lewis like a particularly pathetic, shivery blanket. Vivi's abandoned ship to sleep on the couch ( _"I would do anything for love, but I won't catch 'flu,"_ she'd said, and fair enough). He sighs contentedly, basking in warmth once more and finally feeling like he's not made entirely of lead.

"Thanks, Lew," he mutters into the man's shirt.

Lewis pets him in response, long, languorous strokes down his spine, and he melts further. " **Anytime, Artie.** "

"Sorry 'bout your project. Can you make up for the lost time tomorrow?"

Lewis' hand pauses, and he lifts his head up to blink at him. " **Tomorrow? I'm not going anywhere tomorrow.** "

Arthur makes a confused noise, and Lewis squints at him suspiciously. " **And neither are you - did you really think-? _Arthur_ , you have the _'flu_. You need to take at least three days off.**"

Arthur shrugs. "So? I'll just... take it easy tomorrow. You don't have to waste another day."

At this Lewis sits up, pulling Arthur up with him, arranging them so he can face him with an oddly serious expression. " **Arthur. It's not a waste of time to take care of you.** "

Arthur blinks at him owlishly. "But you don't have to-"

" **Would it be a waste of time,** " Lewis interrupts, " **if I were taking care of Vivi?** "

".....Nnnno?"

" **So why is it a waste of time to take care of you?** "

"I guess it's... not?" Arthur glances away, stymied by this logic. Huh. He'd never thought about it like that before.

Lewis smooths a thumb over his cheek, the touch tender. " **Let me take care of you? Please.** "

"Oh. Uh, if you don't mind, I guess?"

" **And next time don't run off when you're sick - it worries me when I can't feel what's wrong,** " Lewis says, holding him a little tighter.

"Right." Arthur colours slightly. "Um, sorry."

" **Vivi was right, by the way.** "

Arthur frowns, puzzled, and Lewis smirks. " **You do deserve full Mom Mode.** "

His laugh echoes over Arthur's sputtering.


End file.
